


Eye of a Hurricane

by Beyond_the_barrier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Big City, Clubbing, Detective, Drinking, Drug Use, Drugs, Eye Sex, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future, Gangs, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jail, M/M, Party, Partying, Prison, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Smut, anxiety disorders, castiel and dean - Freeform, criminal record, drugged, future career, injure, make out, mug - Freeform, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-02-12 02:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beyond_the_barrier/pseuds/Beyond_the_barrier
Summary: This is a story about a young man, Castiel, who struggles through life. But that's a tad a cliche. Castiel is in some deep shit. Living in a big city, having graduated high school, and going into college, he's got a lot of work to do. But what happens when he meets some handsome man with a dark past? Again Cliche.Dean has a record, and despite trying to be better, he keeps getting in trouble. He has to take care of his brother, his dad is a mess, and his mom is dead. Anger seems to have control over him.Anxiety has control over Castiel. Anger/hate has control of Dean. Not a very good combination. But something just clicks. Who cares if it's cliche?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> READ ME
> 
> There's going to be many surprises in this story, and this is your warning. It has a wide range of incidents, and I don't know what will happen. But, I want my readers to be surprised when something happens, a character death, graphic violence, no matter what I want my readers to not be able to see it coming. So prepare yourselves, because I have no idea what I'm going to do to these characters.
> 
> None of them belong to me unless otherwise mentioned.

It wasn't like it was his first time downtown, maybe not quite so far south, but nonetheless he knew the area if he were just a few blocks East. From where he stood on the sidewalk, he could easily be home in… an hour. With a nice welcome lecture about being 45 minutes late. It would be nice to move out, get away, but the city is so expensive. The best place he could afford on his current wage is a run-down one room apartment about the size of a walk-in closet. At least that's how it felt walking in. Everything was in the one room, except for the bathroom, which had a cracked sink and a shower that the landlord didn't care to fix well enough. Because he said, “For some reason it keeps breaking. So I shut the water to the head off.", which would mean there was no shower. Unless he wanted to dump buckets of water over his head like the landlord snickered about. Either way, Castiel Novak was in some deep shit. 

He sat down on a wooden bench that had so many splinters sticking out his jacket kept getting caught on them. Cas had to think, fast and smart. How to get across town in 15 minutes or less? All of his friends were either dead asleep or out of state for break. A taxi would get him home, though all he had was some pocket change that added up to $1.72. Not nearly enough to get him home, or close enough he could take a bus. But with the bus.. He felt it would take twice as long, besides, there's all of two buses that run anywhere near his house, and neither of them are running this time of night. The subway, seemed the only option. Cas hated the subway, it felt unnatural and too industrial. It was always crowded, never smelled quite right and made him very uncomfortable. He'd rather walk the hour home than ride the subway. 

With that, he stood and started his long strides in the direction of home. 

He may have underestimated the distance between where he was, and where he knew exactly how to get home. Or maybe he tried to convince himself it was shorter than it really was. Why? No idea.

His anxiety heightened so much that he felt it in his ears. His hearing focused from the sound of the wind, to the scuff his shoes made on the concrete. Quickly switching to the clank of metal on metal and the tires of cars on the road. He felt dizzy. He couldn't focus on so much at once but his anxiety was sure as hell trying to convince him the opposite. 

Voices. How many? 2. Or 3. Or was it 4? No had to be 2. But it might 3. But what if it's 4? Stop. 

His ears focus to a scratchy voice when he gets closer to an alleyway. “Hey look at this pretty boy passing by. How much for one night? Huh?.” the scratchy voiced asked. 

Cas tried to keep walking but a strong hand pulled him into the alley by his arm, pinning him against the wall. “I dunno Al, this one might be too much for you. He doesn't look like your regular one.” It was a big man that held him against the wall, pressing his palm into Cas’ shoulder.

“What? You new on the streets pumpkin?” A women with a raspy voice and an attitude for trouble asked. 

“He must be, his clothes look clean and new. They haven't been worn in yet.” The big man gave an evil like smirk. 

Cas was right, three people, three voices. 

“Oi lay off him Zach, I caught his eye first.” The one called Al said. 

“I think the pretty boy here should choose his first. It's a special night ain't it sweetheart?” The woman asked, blowing a kiss in Cas’ direction. 

Cas mumbled, “No thanks." He never was too brave, especially on the streets. 

“I think that means he wants me for his first. Ain't that right darling?” Al smirked.

“That ain't the deal and you know it” Zach moved in closer and Cas winced at the pressure on his shoulder, turning away from the man's face, “You're mine for speaking. Al gets the fighters, and the Blondie over there gets any runners.”

“Oh but I wanted the pretty boy Zach.. look at those sweet cheeks of his,” The women said grabbing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it. Zach turned away for just a moment to give an evil glare towards the woman. “I want any pretty boys from now on then. Come on Al, lets go find me a pretty boy toy for tonight." 

The woman, Meg, and Al walked away, leaving Cas alone with Zach.

“You're in for a rough ride kid,” Zach stood right in front him, pressing his forearm into Cas’ chest, with his elbow now pushing into Cas’ shoulder. “I like it rough, dark, hard, you can slap, pull, and scratch. I want you to resist,” There was a flip of a blade being flicked out that struck through Cas’ ears, he knew what was coming. “How about we get going to a more secluded area? Huh sweet heart? Perhaps before you make me bloody up that pretty lookin’ face of yours too much.” Cas closes his eyes and clenches his fist just as he feels the cold metal of a knife lay across his left cheek. 

The slide of it is slow, and deep, digging through each layer of skin one by one. He winces and tenses up against the wall, already feeling the drip of blood before the knife even leaves his face. When it does, the stinging kicks in and he can feel his cheek start tingling with nerves. His breathing picks up and he scratches his nails against the brick behind him. Feeling the slight push, he tries to convince himself to rip off a nail just to get away from the pain he'll have soon. Maybe he can dig his nails into his palm in some attempt to distract him from the pain he knows he will have elsewhere. 

Zach pushes the knife to his other cheek, forcing Cas to look at him and the blood shot eyes of a druggie. “Scream. I dare you. No one round these parts care bout screams. Not anymore. They're just like us..”

_ Abusers. Rapists. Criminals. Morons. Druggies. Dealers. Robbers. Former prisoners. Escape artists. Convicts. Practically still inmates. Gang members. Leaders. Gunners. Horrible.. they're all monsters..  _

 

__ Cas woke in a jolt, sitting straight up in a jolt. He stared at the wall in front of him, where long ago he had put a small bulletin board. There was a much cleaner square of paint where it used to hang. It was mainly used as a way to remind Cas what was coming up. Like big projects, tests, interviews, things like that. Since his reminders have gone way down since graduating high school, he uses sticky notes in various colors to remind him of things. Now, it's mostly filled with birthdays, family dinners, college projects and the like. But somewhere among the disarray of squares were reminders for himself. To remember that he was alive, succeeding. That he didn't end up in an abusive family or raised in prison. It reminded him to be grateful, of the great teachers he learned from, and the friends he's made since starting college. But there was one, just one, that always stood out. It wasn't even a sticky note, it was a crumpled up wrapper he had found in his jacket, that he taped to the wall, right at eye level to him sitting. All it said was, ‘you're okay’. It was written in shit handwriting, and written so many times over that there was almost no words left. Yet it had only been a week..

            A light knock was at his door, and a moment later his brother Gabriel came in. 

          “Time to rise sunshine. Mom and dad say you need to get back to school and work. So you can get a career and move out and all that mumbo jumbo.” Gabriel chewed on some taffy, while turning Castiel’s lights on in his room.

        Cas’ voice came out deep and scratchy, but it came out nonetheless. “Isn't it a tad early to be eating taffy?” 

       “Cas, bro,” he laughed a little. “it's almost 1:00, I ate lunch already and that was the deal.” He jabbed a finger in Cas’ direction.

       “Fair enough.” Cas mumbled. 

       “Come on bro. Class is at 2:00 and mom and dad think you've skipped enough school. Time to get up.” Gabriel left, closing the door behind him. 

       Cas ran both hands through his hair, and took several long deep breaths. He can do this. It’s time to move on. Get work done and continue living. He can get past this. 

      Throwing on the closest pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt he walks into the hall to the bathroom. He can hear muttering from downstairs, but it doesn't sound like mom and dad are home. At least he can avoid  _ that _ conversation again. Entering the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror. Eyeing the small thin scar on his cheek, letting his fingers graze the slight bump. Shaking his head with a deep breath, he doesn't bother to fix his hair. Or anything else. He takes a piss and leaves after washing his hands. 

         Walking downstairs he see Gabriel and Michael sitting at the table. Eating a bowl of chips and some salsa. It makes Cas feel queasy just thinking about eating that much. He walks to the cabinet and grabs a can of soup. Pouring the contents into a bowl and nuking it in the microwave. 

        Gabriel and Michael are whispering, but Cas knows they're talking about him. He's barely gotten out of bed in the past week, he hasn't eaten anything other than soup and crackers, his response to most things was just grumbling, and he wanted to keep any lights off. 

        Cas isn't entirely sure if they even know what happened. He can only remember up to the point of being cut, and everything else is more of a hazy homemade video. But Gabriel provided the lovely story of what happened when he somehow made it home. Apparently it was hours later, and his parents stayed up until he got home. But he had stumbled through the front door with clothes half on and ripped, with a face so white that it actually made his parents speechless. According to Gabe, he had stuttered some random words about Zach, Blondie, resisting and then just passed out. He vaguely remembers waking up the next morning in bed with a raging headache. Gabriel explained everything to him then. But it wasn't clear if they actually knew anything. 

           “Hey uh.. Castiel?” it was Michael's voice.

            Cas just turned to him and gave him a slow blink, waiting. 

            “Now that it seems you're feeling better, mind letting us know what happened that night?” 

            The beep of the microwave went off and Cas turned back around, grabbing his soup. He stirred the contents with a spoon and tested it with a small sipl. He looked back at Michael, then to Gabe, then back to Michael. 

            He took a deep breath, remembering the night. The man’s face was imbedded into his mind, like a battle scar from a long ago war no one remembers. His nerves remembered the night, and it sent heavy chills up his spine. Everything in his head was telling him not to say anything, and his heart was beating hard with agreement. 

He simply shook his head, “I can’t… I just can’t..” Cas solemnly walked back up to his room. 

Closing the door, and booting up his laptop, he sighed. Telling himself to calm down, that it’s okay, and he can get through this. But some dark ghost of anxiety was telling him that he won’t be, that he’s not okay. 

What happens then?


	2. Learning to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His freedom is back, and so is the urge to party. Same old same old right? Party, drink, drugs, and pass out. Maybe some make out session with some girl, and crash. Right? But all he can see is bright blue eyes.

He was free. From sleeping on metal, hearing the clank of keys and having to pee in front of two other guys. He was free… for now. God knows he'll end up back at the same spot. Who knows how long but it's bound to happen. He can’t help but get in trouble. He’s got a heart for everyone, though he’d never admit it. He’ll take the hit for his friends, he’ll help them out with whatever. At this point, it doesn’t matter to him. Once, he was hesitant about robbing a place. But circumstances took over and he felt like he had to. His friend wasn’t helpful either, urging him to do it with him. It cost him six months of his life because of it, and ever since he just hasn’t cared as much. Already having something on his record lost him thousands of chances, so he figured.. he can't do much else to screw it up. Might as well have a bad reputation than none at all. At least then people know who they're dealing with. Plus, he's gotten to know all the cops in town and has a couple connections of guys that can get shit done. Upon getting to know the cops, who all agree that he's actually quite a nice guy, they often let him off with warnings. Sometimes they'll take him in over night or for a few days and then let him go. But often times there's a line, where they have to do something else or they will get in trouble too.   
Dean understood, and corporated to the fullest extent. It got him short jail times and a lot of probation. Cops now tended to find him and interview him about any crimes he may have heard or seen. Sort of a double agent. Made him feel like James Bond. Slowly, Dean started to get in trouble less, and instead became more of a bystander. Or a spy. So far, only the police know its him giving up info. Other criminals have suspicion but no one has acted on it, no one else knows that he talks to police regularly. He's the mole every gang is after.. but part of him stood fearless in the eyes of a raging bull, knowing that he'll somehow make it out.. whether or not it's just his name that lives on. The other part of him feared for every step he took and every breath he blew. Pain wasn't Fun, it isn't fun. Neither is committing crimes at this point. He only did it so they'd still trust him, and not hunt him down like prey.   
Either way, his mind kept pushing this idea into his head that he could become a cop. Or better yet.. A Detective.. Detective Dean Winchester. Now that's something people would be scared of. They'd run off before he even finished reading about the case. Paranoia would surround every criminal knowing that any one of their followers could be following Dean's footsteps. They wouldn't know who to trust,they would blow every head off until it's just the leaders. Maybe even then, they'd all point their loaded shotguns at one another and…. Maybe that's a tad unrealistic. But detective Dean Winchester would still scare every offender to the brink of insanity.   
A car speeds past Dean just inches from flattening his toes, running a red light at full speed. Not long after the sirens wail after the speeder, it's been awhile since the last high speed chase. Dean continues his step, as if he didn't almost get smashed by a moving ton of metal.   
Dean takes a steady breath in before opening the rickety door that acted as a front door. His little brother, Sam, was standing just inside with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.   
The door creaked as Dean closed it behind him, “What?”   
“A month Dean?” Sam was angry. “it may not be your worst offense but come on man..”   
Dean sighed, “Look Sammy-"  
“yeah yeah.. ‘Crowley urged me or I had to or I got stupidly high and didn't know what I was doing. ‘ it's all the same Dean. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” Sam’s face softened to worry.  
“Can we do this in a couple hours?” Dean asked gently pushing his way to his room. “I've been sleeping on metal with a single blanket for a month now.”  
Sam growled with annoyance, but allowed Dean to take his nap.   
A long while later Dean woke, thanking each soul that wove hard work into his mattress and blankets. He walked into the kitchen and saw Sam sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and the newspaper.  
“Its been more than a couple hours Dean,” Sam said.   
“I get it smartass.” Dean replied while making himself his own cup of coffee. “You want to talk about my record?”   
“I just don't understand why you keep going, you're still getting arrested after all these years.” Sam slammed the paper down as he spoke.   
Dean shrugged. “Not as much as I used to.”   
“That isn't the point and you know it.”  
“Sammy.. It’s hard and.. I just. I can’t explain. You’ll understand when you’re older.”  
“Dean you’ve been saying that since I was twelve. There’s more to this you’re not telling me, and I am older now. We’re both old enough to drink beer until we pass out, is that not old enough for you?”   
Dean didn’t have a response. Sam’s always been smart, from taking AP classes since junior high and being eligible to graduate high school early but opted out so he could take more classes. His college credits were far past any incoming freshman, and he got his bachelor's degree in just a few years. At the moment he’s working his way up a small company in town. Dean’s not entirely sure which, he’s got much and more on his mind. He may not admit it to many people, but Dean is proud of Sam. Getting away from all the shit Dean has discovered or could ever discover. “I’m working on it Sammy. Just, give me time.”   
“Dean.. all I’ve given you is time. Let me help.”   
“Then give me more time.” Dean gulped his coffee and went to his room. Putting on his headphones, turning his ipod on play. Brain Damage, Pink Floyd. Dean long ago challenged himself to name every song and artist on his ipod while on shuffle. No song he didn’t like was on his ipod, so it was always on shuffle.   
He heard his phone buzz against his ‘homemade’ nightstand, in reality he hot glued stacks of cardboard flat on top of each other, then hot glued some roughed up wood on top that he stole off an old house across town. No drawers, only about a foot high, with heavily sanded down wood on top. It worked for him, and that was all he cared about.   
Deano! Come downtown and have some fun with us. Know you just got out, saw you some hours ago. Figured I’d wait until after your coming home nap. Everyone’s here man!  
-Charlie   
Dean smiled a bit, Charlie knew him well. He sent a quick text that he was on his way and chugged the rest of his coffee down. Sort of sneaking by Sam, he made his way downtown by foot. His car was safe in the garage, as much as he loved driving it, around town wasn’t worth it. Just as he got comfy, and got his music going, he didn’t want to stop. Maybe another time.   
Tuned out to his music blasting through his earbuds, he bumped into some other guy walking down the street. Quickly apologizing to the dark haired man and continuing on his way. Probably loudly too, he couldn’t hear shit through his music. He came upon his friends in their usual spot downtown. They hung out behind all the stores, by some trees in a park no one goes to. The downtown plaza had plenty of things for kids and whatever, so it was nice and quiet here.  
“Deany is here! Hey man you got a light? Al over here ain’t giving me his.” Said Dagon, one of the newbies in his group.  
Dean tossed his lighter to Dagon, and giving a snarky look to al.   
“Heard you just got out of prison man. How was it this time?” The hot blonde of the group asked, Meg her name was.   
Dean didn’t know her too well, she and some of the other guys disappeared for days. Him and the others suspected it was some orgy or something like that. One of those things.   
“Same as always,” Dean replied. “Although they added pancakes to the menu.”   
“Ooh. Are they any good?” Meg asked  
“Not even a little. How badly can someone cook pancakes? They’re the easiest thing to make.” Dean laid down next to Charlie, staring at the clouds above.   
“I once burned a pancake cause I was so high I thought I was cooking a steak.” Al said.  
“Yeah well, you’re always high Al. You’re the exception.” Meg sassed back.   
The group chuckled, knowing it was true. Charlie handed Dean a smoke and his lighter. Dean lit up and pocketed his lighter, thinking about when he could run by the station and talk to detective Raphael. He heard a lot of good gossip from some guys he was sure were getting out soon, on probation or just cause their time ended. He also wanted to discuss trying to bring in all his friends. Well, most of them, Charlie has a good heart, she’s just caught up in the wrong circle of people. But the rest… not so much, Dean knows what they’ve done. Meg, the supplier or dealer. Dagon, drug addicted psychopath. Al or Alistar, some law defier and very messed up man. Zach, or Zacharia, some butch macho dude that beat and picked on everyone he can find, the kind of guy that got away with everything cause everyone knew he could kill you. There were others, but not as bad as these guys. At least in his experience, there isn’t any more that could be worse in this crap town. Maybe he should find some new friends.. And move.. And change his name.. Or fake his death. Something, before every convict and psychopath find out he’s the snitch. He’ll need protection, and the station isn’t too inclined to help him that much.   
“Hey yo Dean,” it was Al’s voice “Interested in some fun tonight? There’s a new party bar downtown. Place is suppose to be awesome.”   
“Sure, what time?” Dean sat up, taking a long drag of his cigarette.   
“It’s never too early to party man..” Al growled.   
Dean checked his phone, 3pm ish. He shrugged, “Le’s go.”   
The group collectively got up and headed downtown in the alleyways of the corners. Leaving nothing behind but a few cigarette butts, and imprints of where they sat. Dark corners of downtown is party central, nudging past corners, and walking into dance floors that are it only by some colorful lights. Anything that resembled the sun was thrown out into the backstreets ages ago, everyone had to walk on broken glass because no one wanted to clean it up. Just meant everyone had to be careful when drunk and walking through the alley.   
When Dean and the others walked into the busiest club, it was blasting some obscure rock band that even Dean hadn’t heard of. Which is saying something. They were pretty good. The group gathered at the bar, each requesting at least one shot, and downing it. Meg dragged Charlie to the dance floor, dancing to the music. Al nodded to a corner behind the bar, with Zach and Dagon already waiting. Dean followed, and Al pulled out a bag of pills. In this light it looked like his typical pills he handed out. Something that made them overly happy, and energetic. Laughing at almost everything, and making time sort of just fly by. It caused blurred vision, and dizziness, but boy was it worth it. When Dean wakes up the next morning after a party with these, there’s no denying that he wishes he could do it over and over. Always searching for that high, but knowing that nothing else compares to it.   
Al smirked, handing one out to Zach, Dagon, and then Dean. Each of them swallowing them down with another shot. Dean placed it on his tongue, and took another shot to get it down.   
His night started with dancing, mostly with blurred faces and dark hair colors. At some point, Dean misplaced his jacket, and his wallet felt lighter. The cigarettes normally in his back pocket were gone, along with his lighter. His worry for it disappeared just as quickly as it came in. Eventually he started pulling random strangers onto the dance floor, dancing with them and twirling them away into the arms of anyone who caught them.   
With his head spinning, and his vision blurred, Dean stumbled to the bathrooms. Maybe. It was bright in here, so it must be the bathroom. He leaned onto the sink and patted some water onto his face. Breathing slowly. Ran his hands through his hair, water dripping down his face. He wanted.. Something. What did he want? Food? No.. the thought made him gag. More drugs? Where’s Al? No.. the pill is still making him giddy, and he didn’t want to risk taking more than one. Does… does he need to piss? No.. when did he drink last? Who knows.. Feels like he had something to drink recently.. Or.. was it just from the beginning of the night? What time is it anyway? Should he… That’s it!.. It’s lust.   
Dean stumbled out of the bathrooms, dizzily looking for some single person to charm. He still seem to be quite the charmer even on drugs. Most people were dancing rapidly or making out with other people. Actually.. It may be mostly be grinding and foreplay. It was hard to tell. The buzz of some voice he knew told him something and then took his arm, dragging him to the otherside of the club. The hair.. Was red.. It must be Charlie. She shoved some other guy into Dean’s arm, probably introducing him to the guy. But her voice was still just a buzz.   
The guy now in his arms, came into a clearer view. Dark hair, light face with some stubble that somehow Dean was able to make out. But his eyes.. Blue, and wide. This guy was new, or nervous.. Or maybe he was on drugs too.   
“Hey…” Dean said softly, staring into the bright blue eyes.   
“Um..” The eyes stared back, flicking down and then back up again, “Hey..”  
Dean cupped the face with both hands, and brought him in for kiss. Dean’s thumbs resting on the guy’s cheek, and the tips of his fingers grazing the short hair around the guy’s ears. He could feel the hesitant hands resting on his chest, slowly clenching the t-shirt he was wearing. After a moment, Dean deepened the kiss, pushing the guy into the closest wall. Letting his hands run through the soft hair, and lightly biting the guy’s lip. The hands on his chest moved a little lower, gripping Dean’s t-shirt tightly at his abdomen. Dean kept the kiss going, moving one hand down to the guy’s waist, and placing the other hand flat against the wall by his head. Dean wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, everything after it started was a blur. But one thing he knew for sure, the blue eyed man was the clearest thing. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Dean was running through a dark forest, could barely see the trees in front of him and he was holding a gun. Looking back, almost breathless, for something that was following him. No wait.. Somethings… there was more than one. He heard yelling, cussing, it was people. Some group of people were chasing him. Firing shots every couple minutes, luckily not hitting Dean. He couldn’t run forever, he was running out of air to breath. How long was he running? How big is this forest? Where is the other-   
His foot got caught on something, his face smacked right against a couple of rocks. He knew he head was cut, he could feel the blood before it started dripping down his face. Dirt caught in his fingernails as he tried to claw his way up, but some sharp pain came from his side and leg. Looking down quickly, there was blood on his shirt, and something sticking out of his thigh. His already bloody hand, from something he couldn’t remember, reached down and felt a stick or root in his leg. It was too much to try and pull it out, despite his efforts. Crawling away for just a few inches, he turned around to stare into the barrel of a shotgun just as it-

Dean woke in a gasp, flipping his knife out into the air, and then an ache. With one eye closed, he looked around and yawned, folding his knife back in. Okay, he was still at the club, on a couch in the back, he could see the dance floor. Some light was shining in through the small windows that this building had, brightening the place up enough that he could see a bunch of other people passed out around the floor and chairs. Dean rubbed his eyes, pushing himself up to a sitting position, he doesn’t usually fall asleep on his stomach. He took a breath, and looked around the couch. Trash, like usual, some girls still asleep, some other guys still asleep. His.. jacket? He was using it as a pillow, when did he get his jacket back? Dean stood slowly, with help from the arm rest, and grabbed his coat. Finding his lighter, and an empty pack of cigarettes. Great.   
Slowly, memory from last night came into his head. Actually.. Mostly it was just that guy.. The blue eyed guy.. What was his name? Dean didn’t remember being told his name.. He looked around, didn’t see any face that looked like the guy. One breath, two breath, close eyes, three breath. Okay. Dark hair, some stubble, flat almost chapped lips.. A light coat.. Maybe.. But.. strong hands, he remembered being gripped tightly. He looked down at his shirt, there was definitely evidence of stretching the fabric.. Along with some tiny holes. Okay.. No one around the couch seemed familiar, so he walked towards the door out. Looking around, none of the faces he could see were familiar. Maybe it was just a dream? But.. Dean has never had a dream like that in ages. He pulled his phone out as he pushed his way out the door. Ten missed calls from Sam, 20 texts from Sam and one text from Charlie. He opened the messages,   
Yo Dean, I couldn’t find you when I left, but if you need a ride, just shoot me a text. P.S. you and that guy Castiel were GOING TO TOWN. text me when you get up!   
-Charlie  
Castiel… was the the guy?.. It had to be.. It sounded right.. Dean sent a quick text to Charlie, letting her know he’ll be home safe, and that he can walk there just fine. On his way home, he bought a new pack of cigarettes, and smoked one as he turned the corner to his street. Thinking about… Castiel. Trying to remember every detail.. But he couldn’t quite remember.. He could only picture the blue of his eyes.. And relive the feel of the kiss. He should find him.. Maybe Charlie can help..


End file.
